Calling on St Christopher
by Lidsworth
Summary: Madara's sanity crumbles as he continues to further delve into the darkness. The path he walks is a lonely one, yet he dares to remember a certain Shinobi who tried to convince him otherwise. But he's too late, and the Madara he knew is dead, replaced with a broken soul with a shattered psyche. Memories of a happier time conflict with the damaged Uchiha, until their is nothing left


**AN: This is un'Beta'd, i don't have the time to proofread it now. So my sister and I watched Foster's last night, and the last song was St. Christopher (On My Way), instantly, i fell in love with it, and came up with so many ideas. She drilled this one in my head, so props to Yamiga. This is just a oneshot, and after this, I won't be posting for two weeks, i'll be in New Orleans and then Mexico, so enjoy while you can. I've got a new story too, i'll tell you about it at the end.**

**Listen to St. Christopher (On My Way) though, listen while reading too, it helps.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

St. Christopher

Sore hands pulled at thinning strands of dark hair, the locks not pulled feel idly to the ground. The figure hunched as it walked, almost as if in pain. Yet no trail of blood, nor any physical injury had been visible to those it passed, to those who so narrowly missed an unfortunate encounter with it.

It continued to hunch, almost inhuman as untamed hair fell into it's face, obscuring any human features.

The road it took was lonely, traveled by only a few. And all the while, the loneliness clawed the figure's stomach, churning and tearing his mind away, slowing his pace once again and rendering him from any further movement.

The sun shown brightly behind him as he paused on the vacant dirt road, a gust blowing before him and pulling his hair behind him once again.

Madara Uchiha's sharingan spun wildly as the wind further assaulted his face. By now, he was prone to get angry at anything, wind being no exception.

Angrily he thrashed outward in a feeble attempt to attack his assaulter, the one who pulled his hair back and exposed his worn face to the world.

Never had he been so embarrassed, had he been so ashamed.

Countless times his mind told him to look back, told him to return to his village and apologize, beg for forgiveness even. Undoubtedly, he would be accepted once again by the Hokage himself. He'd be patronized by one, and hated by many.

HE didn't want that, he didn't need. that. He needed help, help that no one could offer.

Risking the potential consequences, when finally, the wind had stopped blowing, he cast a glance behind his shoulder and immediately turned away.

The sun and all it's glory, the warmth and the love it radiated all reminded him of Hashirama.

He was happy no one was around, he was happy no one was ever around at times like this. Times he changed a look at the son. It destroyed him to know what he left behind, to know the potential life bathed in happiness he was privileged to.

But if their hate didn't kill him quickly, then he would've done so himself.

Madara crumbled to the ground again, help me, unspoken on his lips, yet screaming in his damaged psyche. He shook violently as yet another battle waged within his mind.

Go back...

Go forward...

Go back...

Go forward...

Go to him...

You don't need him...

He's part of you...

You can do this all by yourself...

Help me...

Next came the laughter, the maniacal laughter. The bitter cackling, the pitless howling. It was sarcasm, almost irony. He wanted help, yet he didn't know who he exactly was. He wasn't sure who he wanted to be, the path was obscured by fear, unclear and foggy. The hand that held his, the one that led him to the light was grasping only his fingers, it's grip loosening every step he took away from the village.

He was grateful though, the further he slipped into madness, the hand refused to leave him, even if it's presence was subtle.

This road he was traveling, he felt alone in every instance, but knew something watched him, he knew something did.

And next, in sudden realization that someone cared for him, came the crying. Hashirama cared for him, and at times, he wondered if this calming presence refusing to let him go was Hashirama himself, using a jutsu of some sort to comfort him and to follow him.  
Madara cried harder as he realized that he'd thrown away something perfect, a family, friends_all because he was a skeptical man, because he couldn't bare to have his happiness shoved in his face when it ran out.

What a scene he had made, how stupid he had been. There was no more light for Madara, no more Konoha, his only solace rested with death. A death he was too much of a coward to inflict on himself.

So he trusted one to do it, the same one that brought him peace.

Forcing himself up, choking on his sobs and tearing at his hair in an attempt to divert his pain, he continues on the lonely, yet not so lonely, road.

He continues his own green mile, knowing that Hashirama will follow him, and a fight will ensue. Madara will already have the ninetails under his power, it's will bent to his own eyes.

He hopes, he prays that Hashirama will kill him, but not in this state. He'll be more prideful, energetic and angry then, he won't allow Hashirama to see him like this.

So the sun shines behind him, his shadow cast long in front of him, and he continues to walk down the road.

He feels his peaceful companion glued to his side, now stronger than ever.

**A little info on St. Christpher: He's the patron of travler's, and I believe in both the physical and emotional definition. He was a giant for his time, and he carried people across a river. The legend goes that once their was a small boy who needed to get across teh river, so he helped. He put the boy on his shoulders, and the boy got really heavy, St. Chrisopher told him it was as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was Jesus, Chrisopher later dies a martyr. Haven't read the story in a few years, but that's pretty much it. I saw images of him in a lot of the churches in Spain.**

**I thought the Saint and the song matched for Madara, so decided to write a quick oneshot for him.**

**Anyway, for my new story, here's the summary: Fifteen years ago, Kushina died giving birth to Naruto. Fifteen years later, Minato is still unable to love the son he blames for the death of his wife. As a feeble attempt to be a better father, he decides to ask other single father's in the village how they are able to raise their son's without the help of a wife.**

**Hope you like the sound of that! Anyway, please pray for me, i'm not too keen on crossing the Bridge over the Pontchartrain, neither is my sister nor my mother. Anyway, have a nice week, see ya in two weeks, and God bless!**


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